


A Warm Bed to Steal Away In

by The_Captain



Series: The Cons of Being Dovahkiin [5]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, PWP, Porn, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, Sort of? - Freeform, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, look they have sex okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 06:26:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13405365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Captain/pseuds/The_Captain
Summary: Just an elaboration on the flash back from An Overdue Confession but with all the fun details. You don't need to read the other story to understand, but I recommend it!It's been a real long time since I've written smut so I'm sorry





	A Warm Bed to Steal Away In

“How did you get in here?” She asks, fire in her tone.

“Through the front door, lass.” Brynjolf replies, holding the troll skull she kept as decoration up, like he was appraising an item before buying it. Or, in his case, stealing.

“I figured that,” she says dryly. “But that doesn’t explain how. I’ve got the best locks that money can buy on this place.”

“Aye, but clearly they aren’t better than me,” He turns to her, a smirk pulling at his lips, “These hands are very talented, you know.”

She hates herself for blushing. “Alright, fine. What do you want?”

“Something expensive,” he speaks casually, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handful of gemstone. “You certainly keep a lot of valuables in a city full of thieves, lass. Perhaps not your brightest idea.”

She strides towards him with hurried steps, extending a hand. “Give those back.”

He lets them fall into her palm. “Fine, I suppose I could find something else.” He reaches up, taking advantage of her closeness to grasp at the golden emerald pendant that hangs around her neck. He fingers the chain, pulling gently to lure her in closer.

She steams, exhausted by his games, “Why are you here Brynjolf.”

He leans in, like what he’s about to say is an intimate secret. “The cistern is cold tonight, lass. I’ve been up top, looking for a warm bed to steal away in.”

Involuntarily, her eyes flicker to that of her own bed, so much bigger than what one person needs. “So you came here.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, still playing with the chain around her neck.

She tosses the idea around in her head for a long moment. For some reason, all she can think of is Aela and Skjor.  Except this is worse. She and Brynjolf aren’t equals. He’s her superior. For a moment, she wonders what Mercer would think.

“Fuck it,” She says aloud, reaching up with both her hands and grasping his face, pulling him into a quick and eager kiss. The hand that’s tangled in her necklace tightens its grip, keeping her close, while his other hand grasps her hip.  Brynjolf seems to think that he’s in charge here, like he is in the sewers, the Ratway and the Cistern, if his pressing tongue is anything to go by. She bites at his lip to keep him at bay.

Breathless, she breaks the kiss, but his grip on her necklace holds her close. She searches his eyes for a moment, looking for any malicious intent, before leaning back in. He goes to meet her, expecting another kiss, but she moves one hand, holding a finger in front of his lips, preventing him from moving forward.

“Break into my house again, and I’ll break your arm,” she breathes the words in their closeness.

The smirk is back on his face with a new found vigour. “Of course, lass. Never again.”

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Mera says, before going back in for another kiss, hands moving back to his face to pull him in once again.

Mera thought that his stubble would have been unpleasant, but she finds herself enjoying the gentle scratch against her face as Brynjolf’s tongue slides against her lips. This time, she doesn’t bite him, instead parting her lips and letting him slip inside.  She expects him to taste like mead, why else would he come here like this, but finds herself to be wrong as he continues to explore the inside of her mouth.

She slides her hands down until both her palms are pressed flat against his chest, and gives him a gentle push backwards. He tries to break the kiss, and she captures his bottom lip between her teeth just in time, dragging it against the flesh there as he pulls back from her.

“I always knew you had a bite,” Brynjolf teases, eyebrows raised high and she can’t help the smile that spreads across her lips. She continues to push him, until he finally moves a whole step backwards, and then another. “Where are we going, lass?”

“The bed, or have you forgotten?” she teases right back, giving him one more firm push once she’s sure his legs have hit the edge of it, so he’s forced to take a seat.

“How could I,” the lopsided smirk on his face as he looks up at her keeps her grinning.

Brynjolf lifts an arm, most likely intending to grab her or pull her down with him. With all the reflexes she's developed, she stops it, grabbing his wrist and forcing it down as she moves confidently to straddle his lap.

“Whatever you were expecting to find here, Mister Second in Command,” she leans in, whispering in his ear as her hands slowly made their way down his chest, moving southward. “I can promise you I won't be what you're used to.”

“Oh?” He asks, lips going to her jaw as she hisses between her teeth. His hands move up behind her, working on the straps and clasps of her guild armor with hands that were as skilled as she expected. She does the same, working to undo his armor as she speaks lowly.

“No, I won't make it that easy,”

His lips continue their way along her jaw, and she sighs out her satisfaction.  She hears the final clasp get released more than she feels it, and her hands leave his chest so she can pull her armor up and off of her torso.

In the moment that she's blind, her top covering her eyes, Brynjolf moves, hands going for her hips as he uses his strength to move them, flipping her so she's lying flat on her back beneath him.

“Why don't you illuminate for me, lass, what exactly it is I'm used too.”

His eyes sweep over her body, lingering on where her breasts were covered with soft cloth. One hand moves from her hip to her soft stomach, slowly sliding up the vulnerable skin.

“You're used to, mm,” she stops as his calloused hand slips under the fabric, cupping her breast. He looks too pleased with himself as he leans in, lips from her neck to her collarbone as his hand fondles her. His stubble scratches at her skin, sending shivers through her. “women give you everything, don't they? Let you do whatever you want to them once you, ah, speak to them with your _damned_ accent,” She hisses the curse as he nips at her skin, before continuing to kiss further down, using his hand to pull the cloth down enough so he can kiss the top of her breasts.

Brynjolf nips at her earlobe, smirking against her skin as she gasps softly. “You like my accent?” he asks, voice teasing he moves lower, pressing his lips to her sternum, her stomach, to just below her navel. It takes all her self control not to arch her hips up to meet him.

Mera does her best to ignore his words. She whimpers softly as he pulls down her pants just enough to kiss her hip bone. Breathlessly, she continues. “You don’t take it from anybody… except for maybe Mercer.”

Brynjolf stops, raising himself up to look down at her with a scowl. She laughs at the look on his face, reaching up to grasp both of his cheeks to pull him down into a heated kiss. It was good to laugh in a moment like this, and the action settles the nerves that are bubbling in her stomach. In all the times she’s considered this, she always worried about what would happen _after_. When he laughs, too, she feels those worries vanish from her mind.

“What’s your point, lass?” He asks as he breaks the kiss, moving the hand that had been touching her and using it to support his weight beside her head. Perfect.

“You like to be in charge, Brynjolf,” She leans up, slowly shifting her weight to bring her closer to him, closer to his face and forcing him to lean farther back. She kisses him again, moving the hand she isn’t using to support her weight to move around the back of his head, to keep him close as she licks at his lips. Brynjolf keeps pace with her, lowering his torso and pressing his hips against hers, causing her to break the kiss in a gasp. “But, here’s the difference, Bryn,” she slowly slides her hand through his hair, and down to his shoulder, gripping it firmly, “So do I,”

With that, she flips them again, using her full body weight to force him to roll over on her bed. He doesn’t expect it, or he does and he lets her do it anyway, because she manages to get on top of him easily. She places her knees firmly on either side of his hips, and the surprised look on his face tells her all she needs to know.

Slowly, deliberately, she grasps the string behind her that holds her smalls on her chest, and she pulls, letting it come apart and fall. Mera disguards it, and looks down at his face. Brynjolf’s eyes eat her up, hands moving to grasp her hips and hold her there as he devours the image of her in the dim light of Honeyside. She uses her hands to cup his face between her hands, and she leans forward, pressing her lips to his more chastely than before. “Do you think you can handle that, lad?”

Brynjolf chuckles deeply, and she feels his whole chest shake with the movement. “I think I can rise to the challenge, lass.”

“I bet you can,” she says as she rolls her hips down onto his. “Can we get this off of you?” She asks, her hands tugging on his top, and his fingers slip under the waistband of her pants, pulling slightly.

“Only if we can get these off of you.”

Mera swings her legs over him, moving so she's kneeling on one side before she hops to her feet. Brynjolf pulls off the top of his Guild leathers, and she waits of him to have his attention back on her before she slowly shimmies her hips, pulling her armor down and to her ankles. His eyes watch her intently as she's left naked except for the cloth that clings to her hips, and the simple pendant that hangs around her neck.

Brynjolf gets up slower, getting to his feet so he towers above her with his bulk. He strips off the rest of his armor without breaking eye contact. The intensity of it has her turning pink, and she hopes that in the dark of her home he can’t see it.

His hands find her hips and in one rough movement, he pulls her against him and forces her lips apart in another kiss. Now, without all the layers of thick leather, she can feel him against her, his arousal pressing through his loincloth. She lets him lead the kiss while her hands move to grasp at the remaining fabric on both of them, pulling it down and free from their skin, leaving them both naked in the candle light.

In a quick movement she hadn’t been expecting, Brynjolf uses his grip on her to twist her body and practically throw her bodily onto the bed. She doesn’t get the chance to recover before he’s on her, hovering and gripping both her wrists in one strong hand above her head. His other hand supports his weight as he captures her lips once more in a heated hiss, rolling his hips against hers in a steady grind.

Mera moans, feeling his length slip against her skin, but she isn’t done playing yet. She fights against his grip, trying to break free and nearly succeeding before he pushes more of his weight onto her wrists in an almost painful grip. She grunts into his mouth, pulling back so she could catch her breath.

“What? I said I could handle it, but I never said I was going to make it _easy_ for you, did I, lass?” His voice is all tease, and she groans, face flushed with her frustration as she thrashes slightly.

“ _Brynjolf_ !” she complains, wanting to be on him, pin him, hurt him, ride him more than she’s ever wanted anything. The need boils in her blood and she wonders if this _man_ really thinks he could mount a _dragon_ …

Before her mind could spiral any further down that path, she gasps out loud, a high pitched whine escaping her as his free hand slips between her legs. Looking up at him, she sees nothing but his smug green eyes as he uses two fingers to rub her clit. Her mouth hangs open, but no words come out, only quick, panting gasps.

“Done complaining?” Brynjolf asks, the smugness still present in his tone, but his voice is more breathy than before.

“No, I’m, oh _fuck_!” she curses, stuttering out her words as he laughs and slips a finger inside her.

It slides in easily, and her fingers curl at the sensation. Brynjolf lets go of her writs, trusting her not to try anything when he’s got her squirming beneath him, and he adjusts himself into a more comfortable position. He adds another finger, twisting them inside her to hear her moan while his thumb goes back to her clit.

Mera’s hands grip the bars of the headboard of her bed with white knuckles as her hips curve up and into Brynjolf’s hand. Her mouth never closes, hanging open as she gasps and lets out an occasional moan as Brynjolf looks down at her, eyes never leaving her face as he watches the effect he’s having on her.

Mera gasps, “Brynjolf, fuck, I’m… _gods_.” She tries to warn him, tell him that she’s close but she can barely stutter out the words.

Brynjolf seems to catch her meaning, and he suddenly stops, pulls his hand out and wipes it on the blankets. He shifts his body up, moving so he’s hovering above her with one hand at the side of her head. He leans in, and captures her lips in a fierce kiss that she eagerly returns. His other hand travels back southward, and it’s only a moment before she feels his cock poking at her.

“Mera,” Brynjolf’s voice is strained when he says her name.

She nods fervently, “Yes, yes...” A part of her mind nags at her for not giving him more of a challenge, and impishly she can’t help but think  _next time_.

Her heart hammers in her chest as she waits, anticipating, and Brynjolf’s eyes flicker down, before going back to meet her. He looks at her as he pushes in, sinking the head of his cock inside of her.

Mera’s hands go from the headboard to his shoulders, digging her nails into his shoulders as she hissed out her pain. The stretch burned, but she was wet enough from before that he slipped in easily. With great concentration, he moved his hips slowly, giving her time to adjust to his size as he bottomed out inside of her.

She’d never been so glad to feel so full.

For a long moment, he’s completely still inside of her before she gives a curt nod of her head. He pulls out, the movement slow and drawn out in a way that makes her moan. She buries her face into his neck and bites down on his skin to muffle the sound, and his pained hiss sends heat racing through her core. When he thrusts back in, it’s quick, and she feels his hips dig into her skin.

“Yes…” She hisses, dragging her nails across his skin as he relaxes back against the bed, but he follows her, burying his face into her neck as he thrusts in, harder this time. She whines at the pain, loving how the movement shakes the bed beneath them.

She feels his teeth grazing against her skin until he finds a spot, just at the junction between her neck and shoulders to sink into just as he thrusts in again, marking her with a memory.

Brynjolf, as she’s discovering, isn’t gentle, but she’d expected that from a roguish thief. The longer they go, the rougher he gets, bringing his hips forward with more force to hit places deep inside of her that she isn’t sure had ever been touched. Neither of them are particularly quiet. Her moans and yells are loud, but he grunts against her skin with sounds that are just as frequent. Had they been lovers, she might call it beautiful.

“Switch me,” she murmurs into his ear, and his hips stall.

“Hm?” He groans, and she pushes at him slightly.

“Lay down,” Mera commands, and he seems to catch her meaning. When he pulls out, she moans, and he rolls over onto his back beside her. She gets up and kneels, straddling his hips and looking down.

He’s sweating from the effort he’d been exerting, and she's glad to be able to take over.

She reaches between her legs and grasps his cock, stroking it slowly. Lifting up her hips, she closes her eyes and lowers herself down onto it. Her moan is loud and low.

A glance down at Brynjolf tells her he doesn't know what to look at as his eyes dart from her breast, to her hips, and up to her face, trying to take her all in at once.

She rolls her hips, feeling him slide in and out of her with the movement. He hisses beneath her, and she gets into a rhythm, rocking her hips forward and grinding back down, trying to get the most out of every single movement as it sent pleasure deep inside her.

She brings one hand down and uses it to rub at her clit as he rides him, using the combined stimulations to bring her to new heights.

“Damn you,” Brynjolf groans when he catches sight of her touching herself, his hands gripping her hips tightly to help her move.

“'m close,” she moans out, and before she could blink she was being flipped once again.

With Brynjolf's full weight on top of her she grunts and moans as he starts thrusting into her with new vigor. “Tease,” he calls her, and even in her pleasure she manages a breathless laugh.

He fucks her hard, never pausing as he drives his hips against hers with powerful thrusts. She feels herself losing her grip as he works her up, higher and higher until something inside her feels like it's about to snap.

“Brynjolf!” She cries out with his name as she cums, her whole body shaking and toes curling as she does.

Above her, Brynjolf steadies himself with a hand beside her head. He thrusts hard, the motion overstimulating her as she cries out her pleasure. Without warning, he pulls out with a sound that he muffles into her lips. She feels something warm and wet sputter across her stomach, and  Brynjolf rolls and falls beside her.

They lay like that for a long moment, breathing heavily and staring up at the ceiling. Wordlessly, Brynjolf gets up. She looks up just in time to see him tossing a spare cloth her way. She catches it with ease and uses it to clean herself up.

Glancing back up and Brynjolf, she frowns.  He stands in the room like he's not quite sure what to do with  himself, and for the first time that she's known him, Brynjolf looks lost.

“Are you coming to lay back down?” She pries, and he looks over to her with quirked eyebrows.  “I thought you said it was cold in the Cistern. Why Brynjolf, you didn't _lie_ just to fuck me, did you?” She pretends to look offended, and the smirk that she's come to love finds its way back onto his face.

“Of course not, lass. Would I ever lie to you?” He climbs back into bed beside her, rolling onto his side. She shifts, rolling over herself and she's surprised to find his arm wrapping around her waist.

“Thanks for keeping me warm,” he murmurs lowly in her ear.

She grins to no one but herself. “Anytime, Bryn, anytime.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Rip I'm sorry for this guys. I wanted to give you all the juicy details of that scene, and I ended up with 11 pages of their first time banging. I hope you enjoyed it! I might turn this into a series where I just dump smut in here, or I might make a new fic for that. 
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think!


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